That House and Foreman Thing
by Spoggly
Summary: He made a mental note to remind House that his office had interior blinds, to start keeping all his stuff in his pockets at all times, and to pick up a congratulatory card on his way into the office in the morning. If you know the new team, you're ok.


Kutner ended up being the last one left - Taub had burnt out on PPTH by the time the fellowship had officially ended, though Thirteen had upset the betting pools and lasted two months after the her contract was up. He had wondered if it would be odd working in another hospital after House, or if she would be relieved to hear her real name in different, less _transparent_, halls. He had initially feared going the way of Chase and being fired for trying to stick around, but though no new fellows were added, House didn't seem to object to his continued presence (unless, of course, he fucked up a test).

Things had actually been surprisingly normal - Foreman still glared from his corner of the conference table, and Wilson still showed up at seemingly random times for coffee. Kutner's persistent nosiness in that direction had never paid off - he had been forced to conclude that Wilson just genuinely enjoyed House's company and that they weren't secretly living with each other (the biggest disappointment was losing the fifty dollars he had sunk in the nurse's pool). It wasn't that House had reduced the amount of innuendo; it was more that the fewer people there were in the office, the more it seemed to be directed mainly at Foreman, who proved equally as un-entertaining as Wilson and just rolled his eyes. This time, though, the insinuations had proved to be more based in reality.

Three months after Thirteen left, they had been working a case that had him and Foreman running from the continually crashing patient's room to the labs to the whiteboard non-stop. House had contented himself with an initial badgering session in the ICU, then retreated to pacing the hall and making anyone who came within twenty feet of him immediately regret it. It was times like this Kutner seriously missed Taub and Thirteen - at least then the abuse wouldn't be funneled directly at just the two of them. By the time the fourth night rolled around Kutner felt like any minute either Foreman or House was going to snap and take the other down in an impressively epic bid for unquestioned medical dominance. He imagined it would be kind of like something out of Mortal Kombat. Tensions had been increasingly high and the sarcasm and lingering looks normally exchanged between them had devolved into cruel jabs on House's part, and stony-faced glowers on Foreman's. Mostly he had just tried to limit himself to suggesting conditions and sitting very quietly while the two bickered.

Eventually, though, House had gotten that look and burst out with a condition, sending Kutner off to medicate the poor guy before finally being cleared to go home and crash. He was halfway through the deserted parking garage before he remembered he had forgotten his cellphone.

The hallway had been just as quiet when he made his way back to the floor, and he ducked silently into the conference room to collect his cell. Looking up as he turned to leave, he noticed there was still a lamp on in House's office. Then he noticed House was still in the office, and that Foreman hadn't left yet. In fact, they probably weren't leaving any time in the immediate future, because by this point his brain had recovered enough to notice that House was pressed against the back of his lounge chair with Foreman leaning in between his legs, enthusiastically sucking a red mark onto House's neck. Mouth open and phone in hand, he had watched as House's hand gripped harder onto Foreman's tie, pulling him in closer and lower. When blue eyes slitted open in his direction, Kutner immediately began composing what he would like his obituary to say. A stay on his execution was granted, though, when House just quirked his lips and flicked the fingers of his unoccupied hand dismissively in his direction. Foreman chose that moment to bite down, and as House's eyes snapped shut and his hips arched up, Kutner seized his chance to flee before being verbally disemboweled. He had spent the night going over every single interaction between the two of them he could remember in between bouts of revising his resume.

No one ever mentioned it, though, and Kutner began to see how "that House thing" had turned into "that House and Foreman thing," complete with sarcastic remarks and subtle touches when handing over dry-erase markers. It was something that faded into the background gradually as the blush faded off Kutner's face - like the comments made during a differential and dropped when House's attention shifted, or the way that House and Foreman started showing up at work at the same time in the morning and taking the same path to the parking structure at night. By the time his ninth extra month rolled around (another thing no one commented on, and another thing he definitely wasn't bringing up), he had managed to forget about the awkwardness of the whole situation and just be glad that House was more relaxed most days. Until he forgot his keys.

Muttering about getting a PDA for this kind of thing, and wondering if you could install games on one, he pushed the door open and re-entered the conference room, noting as he came in that the blinds between House's office and the hallway were drawn. Glancing over curiously, he saw through the uncovered walls House sitting behind his desk, staring intently at Foreman over the glass surface. House had the look on his face he got when reviewing puzzling lab results, and Foreman was standing in that oddly cocky way he had, holding something small out. When Foreman grinned hugely and opened his hand, the gold ring bounced to the table between them, seeming as much a confrontation as every diagnosis argued over at the whiteboard. Convinced he could _not_ be seeing what he was seeing, Kutner stood frozen to the spot and tried to will himself the power of invisibility. As he gaped, Foreman moved fluidly around the desk and dropped to one knee; he couldn't hear what was being said, but he could see House roll his eyes and pick the gold band up, sliding it home onto his left ring finger. A small smile fought its way onto the man's face as Foreman reached for the button on the jeans inches from his face.

Kutner fought the urge to squeak and scuttled out of the office, escaping unnoticed this time. He made a mental note to remind House that his office had interior blinds, to start keeping all his stuff in his pockets at all times, and maybe to pick up a congratulatory card on his way into the office in the morning. Also, maybe he should sink another fifty into that nurses' pool. Hell, he'd make it a hundred.


End file.
